You must have a hard life, looking like that
Ears full of wax, face of a bat
Full of pimples and pus
No wonder you're not allowed on the bus
Those beady eyes of coal
Staring right into my soul
Was your mother of the third kind
Cause that’s how I picture her in my mind
Your hair, a pile of greasy ticks
Seeing your smile makes me sick
And that smell, a powerful sting
It could wake up Europe’s dead king
A deformed face, caked in sweat
Caused the Black Plague, I bet
A monkey foot, skeleton finger
I wish you’d go away and didn’t linger
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